Fathers singin by the riverside, and mommas in the dark
Southern winds and old pine trees, miss me when I’m gone.
New tattoos and whiskey shots, fill Sunday afternoon.
Followed maps led to old bear traps, and deep uncovered wells
Sunset, new regret, fall down, small town, living with old scripture, breaking down.
Fly home, yellow bones scattered by the pine trees, snow flakes falling down, buzzards in the sky.
Fathers singing by the tall pine trees, and mommas in the sun,
Cactus breeze, and dead oak trees, are headstones in the fog
Blood soaked knights and silver knifes, that cut deep down to bone
Prom dress, mosquito nets, underneath a shade tree, preachers in the school yard looking pissed. Kissing upon Cavenaugh, touching in an old truck, Jesus turns his head when mommas not around.
Fathers singing an old country song, while mommas feeling all alone
Hickory trees, and west coast dreams, made Oklahoma so dull.
Cold smoke winds, and trailer park friends, left us feeling old
Wolves howl, musics loud, mountain clouds, falling down, blaring out bob marley in the park.
Smokin from an apple, kissing in a chapel, Jesus feeling older every day.